She's lying at night awake,
Another gin has done her ache
Though it's supposed to cure the pain,
And cigarettes that burn in vain
To stumble into morning after
Though she'd prefer the drug that's faster,
She feels the touch on her skin still,
A dream to paralyze her will.
It's the rollover
They want her to roll over him.
Or when she's stuck in traffic jam,
The plain's to land at twelve a.m.
She's taken in some stuff as well
And waiting in the queue to hell
The bodies merging, sweat to skin,
She does not let her partner in,
This sex with memory got her thrilled,
Her chance for normal life is killed.
What's a rollover?
They all want her to roll,
To run away from him
She is a living contradiction,
The product of his science fiction,
She's fading fast, a voodoo doll,
She would not hear the final call,
She did roll over,
She lost herself when rolling over him